Chapter Text
If he was a better person, none of this would be happening.
Valerio has never been very good at not being bad, though.
Honestly, out of everyone, he’s probably the most surprised that at 27, he’s finishing his teacher training at some fancy all-girls private boarding school in a Madrid suburb, even though he spent his youth fucked up on coke or far worse drugs. Getting serious about things was sort of meant to be his way of proving to his parents that he could be, but then he realized he actually liked doing well at ordinary things and just sort of stuck with it.
Nepotism helped a little with getting the gig, but whatever.
So yeah, he hasn’t actually touched drugs in years, and he doesn’t particularly enjoy parties anymore. His friends like to joke and say he used up all his partying energy as a teen and now has none left; he knows the real reason he tries not to go to them is his addictive personality. Hand him a drink and he’ll have ten. Wave a bag of coke in front of his face and… Well.
If you put him in the right situation, impulsiveness is guaranteed.
That’s why, in hindsight, all of this could have been prevented. If the temptation hadn’t made him do it. If the school uniform skirts weren’t so short, maybe.
He knows he’s got a certain reputation around Las Encinas, alright? He’s fairly young and conventionally attractive, so naturally the student population thinks he’s somehow the most likely teacher to actually fulfill all of the messed up fantasies they picked up from watching bad porn.
It’s totally a rite of passage for anyone attending an all-girls boarding school — crushing on the hot, young, single teacher. Last year one of the freshmen wrote him a love letter and it was a really awkward encounter he doesn’t really want to repeat. It’s obviously flattering, but he’s also not gonna pretend like he’d ever be interested in a fourteen-year-old like that; that’s too fucked up, even for him.
There’s a reason why he tries not to play up the whole cool teacher thing, even though he knows that’s what the girls think of him as. (He overheard some of them referring to him as Mr. Sixpack last June, and hasn’t worn a tight-fitting shirt to class since.) He teaches PE and biology, mainly because he really likes working out and they made him pick a second subject that’s actually vaguely academic in university, and he likes to think he makes class fun for the kids. But boundaries are important. Boundaries are important because Valerio doesn’t trust himself one bit with temptation — he knows from experience that he shouldn’t.
The very deliberately built up walls between him and the student population start to crumble on the first day of class in his second year of teaching. He walks into third-period biology, ready to teach these seniors that biology isn’t just about the mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell, and nearly loses his cool when he sees this ridiculously hot brunette sitting in the front row. She’s definitely new. He would’ve remembered those huge… eyes. He would’ve remembered those smoldering, brown eyes, currently checking him out. He obviously wasn’t looking at her chest at all.
She’s distracting, but he snaps out of it, goes through his whole introductory spiel and knows he instantly wins them all over when he doesn’t assign any reading or homework on the first day. Other teachers at the school aren’t this lenient; it’s pretty much always crunch time at Las Encinas. He teaches biology, though; he’s not gonna be one of those shitty teachers who pretend their random elective is the most important class anyone will ever take.
When the bell rings, the hot brunette (ugh, he’s such a creep) lingers behind, then comes up to his desk to talk to him.
“Val,” she says to get his attention. He sort of winces at the nickname; his ex-girlfriend used to call him that. All the students and teachers at Las Encinas are on a first-name basis with each other, but this is a little too intimate.
“It’s Valerio,” he corrects. Something about the look on her face tells him she knew that. “How can I help you, Lucrecia?”
Her name is a little ridiculous, but this is private school — he’s heard worse.
“Call me Lu,” she says, then sort of sits down on his desk and crosses her ankles, which does great things for her legs. They’re tan and toned and even though she can’t be much taller than 5’2, or maybe 5’3, her legs seem long.
Hindsight’s 20/20, so of course he’ll later think if he’d just been a little bit more firm with her in that first encounter, none of this would’ve happened. Did he mention he’s impulsive and fucking shitty with temptation? Because he is.
Lu catches him staring at her legs and just smirks at him when their eyes meet. When he gives her a prompting look, she clutches her biology book to her chest and looks away. “I just transferred here and I was wondering if there are any materials from last year that could help me get up to speed.”
He laughs, because of course she’s type A. The headband holding her hair back is too color-coordinated with her uniform blazer for her not to be. “I assume you’ve taken a biology class before,” he says, and it comes out a little flirty. His usual teacher voice is failing him.
“Sure,” she agrees. “But the curriculum was different. Catholic school — they didn’t exactly believe in teaching anything but creationism.”
Catholic school? There’s a really dirty joke at the tip of his tongue that he just barely manages to hold back. He still decides to pry a little. “What’d you do to get kicked out of catholic school?”
Lu purses her lips, then leans down a little towards where he’s sitting in his chair. It makes her tits look really, really good, but he’s not allowed to look, so he doesn’t. Not for long anyway. “I’m afraid that sort of information wouldn’t be appropriate for me to share with a virtual stranger,” she alludes, and he stifles a moan. There’s definitely a story there. He shouldn't want to find out.
“I’ll email you some reading material,” he says, mainly to get her out of here already before he does something stupid like tell her they don’t have to be strangers. This isn't a fucking dive bar, he reminds himself, it's a classroom. He can't be picking up any hot girl willing to flash him some cleavage.
That seems to be good enough for her, because she smiles at him, nods and gets up, her skirt swishing as she walks towards the door. He’s pretty sure he sees a flash of pink panty, but maybe he’s just daydreaming.
“Hey, Lu,” he calls after her, and she turns around with a barely-there smile on her face. She seems like a handful. He thinks he’d enjoy handling her. “Close the door behind you.”
“Of course,” her kitten heels thud on the granite floors. “Thanks, Val.”
She definitely did that on purpose just now. When the door closes behind her, he lets out a deep breath and tries hard to ignore the way he’d like to be touching himself right now.
He doesn’t know what she’s trying to do here and he really doesn’t know why it feels like she might be succeeding.
//
The next time he sees Lu, she’s chatting with Carla in the back of his classroom when he walks in for class, and he rolls his eyes a little at how predictable that is. What a match.
Last year, Carla tried to get him to notice her. It was an admirable effort, too. Luckily he isn’t into blondes, no matter how luscious their lips or tits might be. Of course he was tempted, but he wasn’t interested enough to jeopardize his entire career to take her up on her offer for them to — quote — “get to know each other better”. (Such a bad line. Definitely something she picked up from porn.)
That, and she was sixteen at the time. He’s too pretty for jail.
See? He’s not a total creep.
He’s wondering what they’re whispering about. He’s slightly disappointed to see Lu sitting in the back row — he kind of liked having her closer to him.
It’s probably for the best, though.
The class passes without incident. Honestly, after teaching at a fancy private school like this, where all of his students are prepared to give their studies their all, he’s pretty sure he’d go insane at a rowdy public school. Every single girl in the room is diligently taking notes, and they were all raised to be inquisitory and ask good questions to further class discussion. It’s every teacher’s dream.
Since it’s their final year, the administration is forcing him to add essay writing to his grading criteria — kind of pointless in biology, but that’s not up to him to decide, so he just finds a few hotly debated topics in science and sends the students on their way.
“If you have any questions about the essay prompts or need guidance, you are of course welcome to come see me during office hours.”
He meets Lu’s eyes by complete accident. He swears this isn’t just some ploy to get her to come see him after school.
Of course she knocks on his office door at 3 pm on the dot, smiling at him when she sets her binder down on his desk and sits down across from him. She must’ve unbuttoned her blouse a little, because there’s no way she wouldn’t have been given a warning if another teacher saw her walking the school halls like this during the day.
If she wasn’t his — presumably — underage student, he’d definitely make a joke about how she’s come a long way since catholic school. But she is and he won’t because he’s better than this. He’s not gonna let temptation win out. Creepy thoughts are fine; he’s not gonna act on them.
No matter how enticing her cleavage might look.
She’s prepared a whole list of questions. She’s dedicated and intelligent, he’ll give her that. Once she warms up to him, she strays from her script of questions and they have a genuine, inspired conversation about intrasexual selection. Which is the topic of her essay, and not actually sexual at all, alright? Give him a break.
After what feels like an eternity, she closes her binder and hesitates. “You have an accent,” she says, grinning at him.
Ah yes, he’s heard that line before. “My parents are Chilean, even fifteen years in Spain haven’t been able to beat the accent out of me.”
She’s totally trying to find out how old he is when she asks, “How old were you when you moved?”
“Thirteen.”
“So you’re 28.”
“27,” he clarifies, and he doesn’t know why he bothers to do it at all. “What about you?”
“I’ll be eighteen in October,” which is a smart way to avoid saying that she isn’t eighteen yet. Clever girl, but that wasn’t what he was asking.
“No. Your accent,” he smirks a little when she blushes, like he’s caught her off-guard. It’s cute. Cute enough, he forgets to care about the fact that he shouldn’t be smirking at any of his students.
“My dad’s the Mexican ambassador to Spain,” is all she says and shit, that’s intense. That makes her dad influential and powerful and likely very intimidating towards any boy (man) who might touch his daughter. Smart of him to send her to an all-girls boarding school.
He smiles. “Well, that makes us kindred spirits.”
The look she gives him is brazen. He really, really hopes he’s reading into it. She can’t seriously be making fuck-me eyes at her biology teacher during office hours. Her getting kicked out of catholic school makes a lot more sense now.
But fuck it, he’ll indulge her. He’s not gonna be the first to look away. That would make her think she’s got some kind of power over him, and he definitely can’t afford to let her feel like that. He's the teacher here. He should hold all the power.
It’s definitely not just the school girl get up that has his pants feeling uncomfortably tight. She’s intriguing in her own right; he’s pretty sure she’d be really fun to fight with. He’s always been a big advocate for bickering and play fights that turn into real fights, which in turn can only be resolved using every seduction technique in the book.
He has no idea why he’s thinking about any of that right now. They’re still just looking at each other and he watches her tongue closely when she licks her lips a little.
There’s a knock on his office door, and that finally makes her look away from him. Thank god. He was seconds away from doing something really, really stupid.
“Just a minute,” he says loud enough for whoever is at the door to hear, then smiles at Lu. “If you have any more questions, you know where to find me.”
He doesn’t specify that he means questions about the essay. It’s implied. Her smirk says otherwise.
Maybe it would be best if he stopped underestimating her. “Apartment 2B, right?” She smirks, then reaches out and brushes his hand with hers. It shouldn’t be turning him on this much to know she’s been snooping around to figure out which on-campus apartment is his. He doesn’t know why he nods at all. It’s probably because he’s busy wondering how the fuck that little innocent brush of her hand made him want to bend her over this very desk and fuck her senseless.
“Thanks, Val,” she says, then simply walks out.
This time he’s sure he didn’t imagine the way her skirt flipped up. He’s just hoping he imagined the brief flash of her uncovered ass, because otherwise he’ll be thinking about that for a very long time.
She’s playing with fire. Maybe she needs to be taught a lesson.
//
Thankfully, Lu doesn’t actually show up at his apartment. He has no idea what he would’ve done if she did. (That’s a lie. He’s got a few ideas, actually.)
She storms into his office a week later, looks sort of miffed, and he has no idea why she’s here.
“Did you know,” she starts, shrugging off her school blazer to reveal a sleeveless white blouse. “That corporal punishment is still technically allowed according to the school bylaws? I was reading the student handbook today.”
He didn’t know that. Now that he does, it’s hard not to think about it. Lu hasn’t mentioned whether she thinks the rule is a good or a bad thing, but that doesn’t stop him from picturing how he could just throw her over his lap and spank her if he blamed it on her lackluster class performance.
This time, Lu doesn’t sit down but paces around his desk instead, just taking these short, deliberate steps. It’s kind of annoying, so he wheels his desk chair back and grabs her wrist to get her to stop.
“I highly doubt you’d ever get into any trouble that’s worth a spanking,” he says, all fake concerned, and she rolls her eyes at his sarcasm. For some reason, he decides flirting with her is a good idea. “Is that what you came here for? I left my rod at home today, so I’m afraid I can’t help.”
Lu groans, then pulls her wrist away from him roughly. “Like I’d ever want that.”
He raises an eyebrow at her and leers a little. She’s totally asking for that kind of reaction. She literally came in here and started talking about how he’s allowed to spank her, basically.
“I want to run for student body president,” she says. “This is part of my research. I think I’ll put removal of the bylaw on my agenda.”
Her level of cunning ambition is kind of terrifying. It’s insane how she’s been here less than three weeks, but has already established herself as one of the most popular girls in her class and garnered a reputation as a star student among teachers. He’s heard a ton of praise for her fall from his colleague’s lips over the past few days; she even got a shoutout in their weekly teacher’s conference. She seems so hyper-focused at all times, like she’s never not gotten what she wanted before, so he’s sure she’ll win this, too.
It makes him worry about his chances if she ever decided to pursue him. Which, shit, what if this is her way of doing just that? He feels a little powerless to stop it.
“Will you endorse me if I run?”
He laughs out loud at the pleading look on her face.
“I’m your teacher, Lu,” he says, because he thinks she might need the reminder. “This isn’t a presidential election. I have to stay impartial, and besides, my endorsement would mean nothing.”
She actually huffs at that. “But all the girls love you. If they thought you liked me, that would guarantee me the win.”
He has a little sister, so he knows when girls are fishing for compliments. And Lu looks cute when she pouts — cute enough for him to play along. “This has nothing to do with whether I like you.”
She takes a step over to his desk and sits down in the middle of it, right in front of him, her legs slightly parted. He wills himself to keep his eyes on her face because he doesn’t want to know what color underwear she is (or isn’t) wearing.
“But you do,” she says coyly, reaching up to twist her hair into a messy bun. Why does that make him want to push her to her knees and grab her hair roughly while she puts her mouth to better use? Fuck. Her lips are so fucking pretty. They’d look so good wrapped around his cock. She seems to notice he’s zoned out, because she’s just staring at him with this mischievous grin on her lips when he snaps out of it. “You do like me.”
That’s dangerous territory to cross into. They both know that. Answering truthfully could get him into so much shit. He’s never been a very good liar, so he changes the subject instead.
“You’d make a great student body president.”
She looks a little annoyed with that answer, if the way the corner of her mouth contorts is anything to go by.
“Ugh,” she sighs, then kicks one of her legs out to put her foot on the seat of his chair between his legs and push him away. What the fuck? His chair hits the cabinet behind him. “You’re useless."
He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he chuckles. “You’re welcome?”
“I’ll need five minutes of class time to announce I’m running,” she says, a sweet grin on her lips again.
“Anytime,” he nods, and he means it but he’s also just really confused.
Lu smirks, then reaches forward and grabs his chin for a second, and before he can say anything about that, she’s taken off again, a quick, “Bye, Val,” falling from her lips.
Did he just get played? He’s pretty sure he just got played.
//
He wakes up covered in sweat that night, and when he checks his phone and realizes it’s four in the morning, he decides to go for a run to get rid of all the impure thoughts threatening to drive him fucking crazy. He hastily jumps out of bed, slips on his running gear and doesn’t stop or slow down until he’s so exhausted he might puke.
At home, he takes a quick cold shower. He doesn’t trust himself to be naked in there for a second longer than strictly necessary, because he knows exactly how that will end.
There’s no way he’s gonna touch himself while thinking of a student. No fucking way.
It doesn’t matter how many dreams he has about her. He’s not gonna do that.
In class, he’s distracted, but he still lets Lu have her moment of fame to talk about her plans for the student council. He’s not really listening until he hears his name when she says, “And thank you to Valerio, for your vote of confidence,” like he didn’t tell her yesterday that he can’t choose sides. She’s looking directly at him as she says it, and he just laughs a little, shaking his head at her.
This girl is fucking dangerous.
He really needs to do something about this sexual frustration bubbling up inside him. That’s the reason he asks the new art teacher to come over for a drink tonight when he runs into her in the teacher’s lounge. Cayetana is nice, and he knows she’s into him because she keeps finding more and more ridiculous excuses to talk to him.
It’s not like he can just go pick up a random woman at a bar in this tiny little ghost town. Slim pickings.
They end up on his living room couch with a bottle of wine, talking about work because they have literally nothing else in common. It’s sad that it’s come to this. He knows he’s truly and seriously fucked when he finds himself thinking that he and Lu would have a lot more to talk about.
“That brunette, Lucrecia? She’s a troublemaker,” Cayetana says, a smile playing on her lips.
He has a lot to say about that, but decides not to bother. Instead, he nods, then takes the glass of wine from her and puts it down on the coffee table.
“Let’s just stop talking about work for a minute,” he gives her the most charming look he can muster, which probably isn’t charming at all, but whatever. He’s not gonna try very hard. This is a good time to get by on his good looks alone.
The kiss isn’t gentle at all. He doesn’t waste any time, pulling Cayetana into his lap immediately instead, then going for the buttons on her blouse. When they’re both naked, she gets a little shy on him, and honestly, if he wasn’t kind of desperate, he’d tell her this was a bad idea and send her home.
He doesn’t really like blondes, and she’s timid and clearly uncomfortable with her sexuality, which is almost enough to make him lose interest. He prefers women who know want they want and will stop at nothing to take it from him.
When he finally gets her to loosen up enough to fuck her, she moans all loud and fake and he clasps a hand over her mouth. He hopes she’s fine with that. There’s no way he can keep fucking her otherwise.
Usually he wouldn’t consider himself a selfish lover. But this time he can’t help it; he thrusts into her in hard, punishing bursts, grinning when he feels her body respond to him. Good. At least she seems to like it.
It’s easier to use her like this when he knows she’s getting something out of it, too.
When he finally comes, it’s Lu’s face he thinks of, her dark hair he imagines pulling on. The blonde he’s currently inside of cries out, then clenches around him and he’s glad she came, too — he wasn’t even really thinking about that.
Cayetana cuddles up to him all smiley and cute, and he makes up an excuse about having papers to grade to get her to leave not much later.
He’s not sure trying to fuck Lu out of his system worked at all.
When he’s laying awake later that night, restless and half-hard thinking about her, he can kind of feel his resolve faltering.
//
Lu joins the open track team tryouts he's hosting, and he literally has to force himself to look away when she walks up to him in her little running ensemble — these criminally tiny Nike shorts and nothing but a skimpy sports bra. Her body is tight in all the right places, and he’s absolutely dying to touch her. When does she even have time to work out in between all her extracurriculars, all the studying she must be doing and the hours of scheming she no doubt requires to keep her position as ring leader of her little girl gang?
It’s honestly kind of impressive.
“I didn’t know you were into running,” he jokes, and she smirks.
Her answer is quick. “Morning jogs are the secret to my success.”
He nods at her, signaling his approval. He loves running in the morning too. Then, he calls the rest of the kids over for warmup. Sports are mostly co-ed at Las Encinas, a collaboration with the nearby all-boys school. He doesn’t love the way all these teenage boys are ogling Lu.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he tells the group after some stretches and has them get ready for sprints.
Lu beats all of the girls, and all but three of the boys in the 100-meter dash. He should’ve known she’d never try out for a team she won’t be the best on.
At the end of tryouts, she’s on the sidelines gulping down water, and even though her face is a little red and her hair a slight mess as it tries to escape from her ponytail, she still somehow looks like a fucking model.
“Good job today,” he says as he’s walking past her and towards the locker room.
“Thanks,” she says, groaning as she stretches out her calf muscle. “I know.”
It’s that cocky attitude of hers that makes him think she’d be fucking insane in bed. She knows exactly how hot she is and she isn’t afraid to own it. He likes that a lot.
His eyes follow the trail of sweat running from her neck down to her breasts and she smirks at him when he looks her in the eye again.
“So when’s practice, coach?”
She can’t fucking call him that. There’s no way that’s gonna be a thing. He’ll literally do something stupid and reckless, like fuck her in the locker room showers, if she calls him that again.
“Don’t call me coach,” he says, tries to play it cool because he knows her well enough at this point to know she’d just keep doing it if she found out he secretly likes it. “Just Val is fine.”
He doesn’t know when that became fine, but it’s preferable, anyway.
She looks around, calculating, then puts a hand on his chest after confirming everyone else has already taken off for the showers. She’s actually fucking pouting up at him. “But I like it… Has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Coach…”
“Lucrecia,” he warns, and her eyebrows shoot up at the mention of her full name. Yeah, two can play at this game. She’ll see. “Take a shower,” he says, then shamelessly checks her out again, running a finger from her collarbone down to her cleavage. Fuck. “You’re all… wet.”
Her eyes go wide, and he thinks she lets out a little whine, which he literally can’t fucking handle, so he steps back and decides he might as well run a few laps now that he’s here and already wearing running shoes.
As he takes off in the opposite direction, he hears her yell, “Good advice, coach,” and he swears nothing has ever sounded hotter than her calling him coach.
This is all so fucking wrong.
He’s on the fucking highway to hell. How does that song go again? He hopes he’s going down, all the way.
He’s not talking about hell.
//